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ibro hasanovich
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Meet Johanna
She lived in a dump, yet she was one of the most beautiful children
God had ever led me to. Skinny, shy and sensitive, yet radiating His
light so purely. She told me she loved Jesus, but I already knew.
Her demeanor may have been quiet, but her spirit spoke loudly. Only
eight years old, growing up in stench, filth and disease - but somehow
God had preserved her.
I meet my fair share of hardened hopeless dump residents, but I'm
always amazed at how many beautiful treasures He's hidden in these
dark places. I reckon God does His best work against such a backdrop.
It's truly miraculous that Johanna could have emerged from the environment
she did without her body and spirit scarred. After all, her 'home'
was filled with rapists, alcoholics, thieves, and desperate and despairing
people, but somehow, God preserved in her His pure spirit.
Though Joanna's body was shielded from child molesters, she didn't
emerge untouched. Worms had invaded her feet and 'tummy,' and they
were literally eating her insides out. I'm not sure what they were
feeding on since she was so skinny, but they were definitely doing
their damage.
Consequentially, Johanna was sick. So, we brought her home to the
Arco Iris Children's Center, where I bathed her and gave her a new
set of clothes. Before Johanna jumped in the shower, she handed me
the rubber ball I had given her at the dump. This 69-cent gift was
obviously to be guarded. I've never seen a ball so loved.
The amount of dirt, ash and grime sucked down that drain was phenomenal.
But admittedly, totally 'normal' if your home is a dump. When the
water finally ran clean, Johanna was dressed in spanking new clothes.
Her face looked like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz upon finding the
Emerald City: wide-eyed wonderment mixed with indescribable glee.
Johanna and I prayed together before I led her to her new home. Living
with 500 kids can be a bit over-whelming to a shy-spirited child,
so I was a bit concerned for her. But it soon became clear that no
Hilton or Sheraton guest ever appreciated their luxurious accommodations
more than this little girl did! It didn't matter that her living quarters
were in a cramped bunk-bedded room housing twenty people. This was
a Hilton experience as far as she was concerned!
On Sunday, I was looking out for my new friend. After church, I could
see that she wasn't doing so well, so I took her hand to lead her
to the nurse. Suddenly, little frail Johanna bolted from my side and
ran off into the grass and sand. Quickly she fell to her hand and
knees, dug a little hole in the dirt and tried to barf. But her weak
body wouldn't co-operate, so she waited, poised over her little hole,
desperately hoping the sickness might leave.
When I reached her crouching body, I placed my hands on her back and
let the tears roll freely down my face. I could feel Joanna's bones
beneath my fingers.
Did you know that compassion isn't a nice feeling? It rips your heart
wide open. When I drove out of the Center last week, and 3 year old
Nandinio fell to the ground wailing and kicking in the dirt, I was
sure someone had torn my heart clear from my body. If that wasn't
enough, it then felt like a knife pierced into it, and after it had
been sliced into little itsy-bitsy pieces, a football team tackled
it and made sure it was pounded and pulverized into an unrecognized
glob.
You may think I'm exaggerating, but the tears that come to my eyes
now are real. Compassion might seem like a nice thing to pray for,
but it's a dangerous request - for your 'blessed' answer is packaged
in pain. Love hurts.
So as I prayed for precious frail Johanna gasping for air, I was acutely
aware how costly love can be.
Do you pray to be hurt? Well, if you're praying for more love, you're
praying for more pain.
Am I advising against it? Of course not. Without love, we have nothing.
But love is long-suffering and we must not miss that. To be honest,
there are times I'd rather post on my refrigerator door a 'warm fuzzy'
about love. But the definition God gives for love in 1 Corinth 13
says that this thing we all want 'bears all things.endures all things.'
and a bunch of other stuff that frankly, is just not easy.
I've pondered that chapter a lot these last couple months: as I wash
out the poopy pants of a child, as I clean up the vomit of a sick
one, as I pray for a demonized one. I'm more convinced than ever that
the most difficult task on earth is to love well.
But this is my goal. This is my passion. This is my pursuit. If there
is only one thing that can be put on my gravestone, I pray that it
can be truthfully engraved, 'She loved well.'
"Don't let your heart grow numb. Stay alert. It is your soul which
matters." Albert Schweitzer
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